


a thousand kisses (from you) is never too much

by marvelleous



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Infinity War compliant, F/M, Fix-it fic, Fluff, Spoilers, flangst, other characters to be added - Freeform, post 5x22
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 00:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14705930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelleous/pseuds/marvelleous
Summary: Melinda has never been one for fairytales - falling for a complete stranger, knights in shining armour and true love’s kiss; they’re simply tales meant for entertaining children. But as with everything else in her life, Phil happens to be the only exception.Or the one where they're trying to enjoy a nice peaceful vacationbefore Phil’s impending doomwhen a purple alien overlord snaps his fingers, turning Melinda into dust, and giving Phil a reason to live again. She's never really needed his rescuing, but he'll be damned if he doesn't do all he can to get her back.





	a thousand kisses (from you) is never too much

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [Plechka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plechka/gifts).



> title stolen from terry's emotional speech on brooklyn nine-nine, which he borrowed from a song

Their first day together by the sea feels like a dream.

It isn’t because it’s something she could have never imagined, but rather the realisation of one of the few things she’s spent much of her life wishing for. Feeling at peace, by the side of a man she has known for longer than almost anyone else, a man she has loved for so much longer than she’s ready to admit out loud.

The smell of the ocean, the sun’s rays upon their skin and the sand beneath their feet, it’s enough to make her forget about everything else and focus solely on Phil, who has been reluctant to release her hand since the moment their fingers first interlocked. Both their gazes are trained on the crystal blue waves lapping at the shore, watching as the water creeps inevitably closer and closer until it’s drawn away once more.

She thinks that it’s not unlike the relationship between the two of them, but before her thoughts can take a darker path, he squeezes her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles.

“We should probably get changed.”

He looks down towards her even as she turns in his direction, sharing smiles so much smaller than an onlooker might expect. Their eyes, obscured by matching sunglasses, are what betray their true feelings.

Happiness, in its purest form.

 

* * *

 

Phil tries to argue with her when she insists on slipping away to change, and she smirks at his feeble protests before closing the door to the bathroom of their little beach hut before he can enter.

The sundress on her body feels so completely unnatural, but it suits their surroundings and is quick and easy to slip on. It's also equally easy to slip off, but that’s neither here nor there.

Despite having been in their line of work for so many years, she has difficulty concealing her reaction when she exits into their bedroom and witnesses the chaos of an ensemble that Phil has chosen for an outfit. The long sleeved Hawaiian shirt would have been garish enough on its own, given the colour combinations, and she cannot imagine why he’s paired it with bright blue swim trunks.

Her laughter at his expense does not deter him; in fact, he appears more pleased than ever, pulling her towards him until there’s little space left between their bodies. She rests her hands against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart beneath her left palm, strong and steady. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head, idly twirling her hair with his hand. She can feel the bandage brushing past her bare shoulder, but the sensation is quickly forgotten as he leans down, resting his forehead against hers.

The silence between them is somehow peaceful, tranquil, yet still leaves her feeling a little raw within.

She kisses him this time, because she can, and it’s so similar and so different to the first they truly shared. There is no more fighting, no rush of adrenaline and not knowing what the future holds, but the exhilaration, the way her heart races, the tingling feeling from her head to her toes, all of those remain.

The wish for the moment to never end.

He's grinning when they do part, and she's only a little surprised by the words that come from him.

“You know, we could just skip the parasailing and stay inside all day.”

She rolls her eyes as he tilts his head towards the bed, his fingers having gravitated from her hair to the fabric knot holding her dress up. He looks all too pleased at his own little joke, and part of her doesn't want to burst his bubble. The other, larger part, is too familiar with their dynamic, and it wins over, for she cannot resist teasing him just a little.

“What, no flowers and chocolate and a proper date first? You've changed, Phil.”

He’s momentarily stunned by her words, and she shakes her head slightly at the expression on his face, allowing the smile tugging at the corner of her lips to become more apparent. There’s a flash of a different emotion in his eyes, but it comes and goes so quickly she cannot identify it.

“You really haven't changed,” he says in dismay, but she can hear the amusement in his voice, the words repeating themselves over and over in her mind as he takes her hand, leading her back outside to their island getaway.

One thing she’s known for almost her entire life is how inevitable change is, that no matter how much she willed it not to, some things would still come to pass and time would never stop. At times the entire world seemed to morph right before her, and others, the process occurred so slowly it became almost undetectable. On the surface, she nor Phil are the same kids that met at the Academy a lifetime ago. After all the things they’ve been through, together and apart, it's impossible to believe that they would have retained the youthful hope.

But deep down, he's still the same man, always putting the greater good before all else.

She knows that better than anyone.

He knows her better than anyone.

She's not the same spirited operations cadet who pinned him on his back the first time they sparred together. For too long she had been seemingly broken, a husk of her former self, and deep down, it felt as though she would never fully heal, that a part of her would always be missing. Even during her darkest hours, he had seen the best in her, something no one else was capable of, but she hasn't believed his words until now.

Because for all that has changed, so much remains the same, because even after all this time, they're still here, together, going on another adventure, exploring something new. And in this moment, all the pain it took to reach their destination seems worth it.

 

* * *

 

They spend their day wandering the island, pausing every so often to sit down in the sand and admire the scenery around them. She's never been entirely comfortable with public displays of affection, but no one else matters when Phil puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer, leaning in to initiate an intimate conversation, or an even more intimate kiss.

The waves that lap at their ankles when they approach the shore are a stark contrast to the hot sand further up the beach, and it's something she's experienced many times before, but it's different somehow. It doesn't take much consideration to know that the reason is the man whose arm is wrapped around her waist, the same man who is currently attempting to tell her a joke about tanks and fish.

She begrudgingly indulges him when he insists on having lunch at what looks like a tiki hut, and tries to keep her mind clear when his trip to the bathroom takes longer than she anticipates. By her count, one hundred and ninety-two seconds pass before she hears his footsteps approaching from behind her and she releases a breath she had been holding almost the entire time.

His shadow appears a split second before she feels his hand on her shoulder, his fingers brushing her collarbone. He leans over, kissing her cheek, and she cannot help but smile.

“Don't you know better than to sneak up on me?”

“We both know you heard me coming from a mile away.”

She scoffs, turning in her seat to face him with the intent of offering up a proper response when she sees what he's holding between his fingers. While Phil’s words to her had stirred up meaningful memories, she realises she may have unleashed a monster with her own.

There’s a brightly coloured flower in his hand, native to the island, clearly having been picked by hand only minutes earlier, and she doesn't quite know how to react to it.

“It's beautiful,” is all she can say, quite possibly the most cliched words that one could respond with in such a scenario, until he whispers, “so are you.” It feels like a page from some story book, a scene from a movie, but she can do nothing but smile softly as he brushes a lock of her hair back and tucks the flower just above her ear.

(It doesn't really stay in place, because the stem is far too short, but she holds it in her free hand the rest of the day and sets it on the bedside table when they return to the cabin.)

 

* * *

 

Phil insists on preparing dinner for them despite her protests.

They visit a bustling market not too far inland to pick up fresh ingredients, and despite the fact that they pass more than a dozen good restaurants on their way, he refuses to change his mind about it.

She’s promptly exiled from the kitchen when the initial preparations are done and contents herself with watching him cook from across the room, humming a tune she can't quite place.

They eat out on the wooden front porch, sitting so closely that their arms brush with every moment, both watching as the sun sets beyond the horizon. Though they clear their plates while it is still light out, they don't retreat inside until long afterwards, when the sky is blanketed in midnight blue, the twinkle of the stars somehow just as bright as they were in space.

 

* * *

 

When they do finally climb into bed much later, she doesn't let him get a word in before she leans over and kisses him, her fingers curling around the fabric on his shirt. He reciprocates her enthusiasm, it isn't long before they are wrapped around one another, almost gasping for breath.

She lies there, head resting on his chest, her body half draped over his, and takes a moment to recover, physically and mentally. There are a cluster of emotions she’s not sure she’s felt before, and others that are all too familiar. His fingers idly trace circles upon her back as she toys with the hem of his shirt.

The thought of removing it had not crossed her mind, for she knew it would only bring him discomfort. Somehow, a reality that she had never truly come to terms with, is the only path that lies ahead, and the scars and markings across his body only sought to be painful reminders of their limited time together.

It isn't fair, but their cards have been dealt. Whatever moments they have left to share, she can cherish and commit to her memory. But he’ll be gone, and she’s well aware of what hurts the most; the knowledge that he’ll leave this world for one unknown far too soon, after having already given his life for so many.

If anyone deserved to live out their life on their own terms it was Phil. He chose this, he chose her, and all she needs is to be here for him.

“Melinda?”

The sound of her own name breaks her out of her thoughts, and she cranes her neck so she can meet his gaze.

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Phil.”

She listens as his breathing evens out, and she's almost sure that he's asleep when she hears him speak once more.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 

* * *

 

It takes only six minutes and sixteen seconds before she realises that there is no way she's getting any sleep tonight. She feels every rise and fall of his chest signalling that he’s still breathing, every beat of his heart telling her that his body hasn't shut down yet. It does little to soothe her fears, for each second that passes means one less that he has.

She's come to realise that for everything else she is willing to sacrifice for the rest of the world, Phil Coulson is not one of them. Her judgement is askew when it comes to him; she’s willing to be selfish. Even back when they were low level agents, sent out on operations like disposable soldiers, she had fought tooth and nail, disobeying her commander’s orders to ensure his safety.

That hasn't changed.

She’s here for him, has agreed to do nothing and just be at his side, but it's not what she wants, it’s not what she _needs_.

It's not what he deserves. A few days, a few weeks, after everything they've been through. She should be happy, content that they have this time at all, but it isn't enough, and she’ll be damned if he expects her to just watch him slowly fade away before her eyes. If their situations had been reversed, she knows without a doubt that he wouldn't stop trying to save her.

And if she does fail in the end, she can at least tell herself that she never gave up.

 

* * *

 

The next few days pass all too quickly.

Long walks on the beach, various activities around the island, trying the local cuisine and doing all the things they never had a chance to in the past.

They even go dancing.

The nights however, seem to drag on. 

She slips out of his embrace after he falls asleep, leaves the room and spends the time between them and sunrise making contact with old friends and allies, trying to find a solution, something that even two of the brightest minds at shield hadn't been able to come up with. There are stretches of time she just sits still, trying to process the events occurring.

Phil died once before. She remembers it all too well; hearing the message he left for her earlier in the day about the Avengers finally getting together, sitting in her cubicle as agents scrambled around trying to make sense of the situation, and hours of nothing before they delivered the news to her.

She's never truly recovered from the ordeal, but it was easier to lock in the back of her mind when he was fine and not dying again.

In her desperation, she even reaches out to her mother, who had always feigned disapproval in regards to Phil in the past.

“I will make some calls, see what I can do. I've always liked Phil.”

She hangs up before her mother can tell she is crying.

Her tears have dried by the time she slips back into bed, but one glance at the wilted flower lying on the bedside table and she's trying desperately to conceal her emotions once more. 

 

* * *

 

The thing about slowly dying is that getting to wake up each morning is a pleasant surprise. It's even better when he awakens to Melinda in his arms; one of the best feelings in the world really.

He's accepted leaving everything else behind, his team, Daisy, the organisation he dedicated more than half his life and then some to, but letting go of Melinda is not something he thinks he’ll ever be ready to do.

It's unfortunate that he doesn't really have a choice in that regard, but he's grateful to Jemma, to Yo-Yo, for keeping him alive this long, so that at least his last memories will be the greatest of his entire life.

Phil doesn't want to die, but he's accepted his fate.

He's not afraid of it anymore.

The only thing that scares him now is the look on Melinda’s face the moment it happens, that she’ll have to see him die. She's gone through so much in her life already, and it's unfair of him to tether her to a dying man, but the smile on her face before each kiss they share somehow justifies it to him.

He's knows that he's not being fair to her, that he never really has, putting her in positions like this, forcing her to make the hardest calls, but he's happy she chose this, to support him till the very end. To know that the last person he sees before he leaves this world will be her makes it both easier and harder to say goodbye.

It isn't his own impending demise that he mulls over, but whether Melinda will retire or rejoin the team when he's gone. He doesn't want her in danger, but she’s better equipped to deal with it than anyone he knows, and at least there she’ll have Daisy and the others to lean on.

He doesn't want her to be alone.

 

* * *

 

Melinda has always been an early riser, up before the crack of dawn. It’s part of the reason why waking up with her still sprawled on top of him is so pleasantly surprising, but he chalks it up to her wanting to spend more time with him, and finally sleeping in given they're technically on an extended vacation.

After six days on the island and the growing bags under her eyes, he's not so sure.

Phil supposes he should have realised that Melinda wouldn't have agreed to his wishes. He doesn't blame her; he no doubt do the same were he in her position, but seeing what it's doing to her breaks his dying heart. His body may be failing within, but she’s the one who somehow looks worse than he does, and it hurts more than anything he's experienced.

He considers just letting it go, letting her try, because he doesn't want to spend the time they have left together fighting the same fight, but he can't bear to see her like this, hiding her pain from him.

It's the last straw when she stumbles on the way to grab a mug in the kitchen.

“You have to stop this.”

She whips around to face him, one hand grasping the counter beside her, and he braces himself for the oncoming argument.

“We came here because it's what you wanted. You’re going to leave here, alive, with me, because it's what I want.”

“Melinda.”

Her expression softens at the sound of her name, but he knows that he’s fighting a losing battle, with her, and with time.

“You don't get to give up.”

“We both know that there isn't any other way.”

She shakes her head, a tear running down her cheek and it's been so long since he's seen her cry, he doesn't know what to make of it. He moves towards her, pulling her into his arms, feeling the weight of her body sag against him.

“I'm sorry that I've put you in this position, but you're making me the happiest person alive just by being here,” he mumbles into her hair, arms tight around her.

“I'm not going to let you die.”

The conviction with which she speaks almost has him believing her words, but he knows their efforts are futile. He also knows that nothing he says will stop her.

They're too similar in that respect.

When it’s their own lives on the line, they're willing to do what it takes for the greater good. The moment someone else is threatened… it all changes.

He pulls back a little, staring into her eyes.

“I believe you,” he says.

 _It's not a choice that we get to make_ goes unsaid.

She opens her mouth to say something, and then stops, the blood draining from her face as she does nothing but stare at him in confusion. He watches as she lifts her hand between them, only to see it disintegrate before his very eyes.

“Phil, I…”

It takes only three seconds before she completely disappears, and he wonders if this is what death truly feels like, living in a world where everyone else is gone. He clutches at the empty space where she had been standing only moments earlier, falling to his knees in silence, too shocked to make a single noise.

It’s impossible.

There’s no way.

Everything hurts, but it's a different kind of pain.

He's died before, he would gladly die a thousand times, over and over, than to experience this moment and all that may come after again. 

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this story on Stinis who won't stop encouraging my shenanigans even though I made a sweeping declaration that I wouldn't be writing any more fic because I was all ficced out. Shout out to Polechka who basically willed me from quitting the fandom by constantly messaging me about AOS - I'm not sure if you regret that now. A huge thank you to Michelle for letting me scream at her about things; we may not always be in the same fandom, but you're a great listener. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this story. I always appreciate kudos, comments and hugs, if you can spare me any :)


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